Relic
Books of Eva - 1
by
Heather Terrell
To Jim, Jack, and Ben
HISTORY OF THE NEW NORTH
YEAR ZERO: THE HEALING. The Gods swept hurricanes across the world and warmed the polar ice caps—washing the Healing over mankind …
—The Praebulum
BUT BEFORE THE SEAS covered nearly all of His lands, Father Earth listened to Mother Sun’s pleas for mercy … He spared one last group of people—those of the Aerie.
—The Lex
1-4 A.H. (AFTER HEALING). The Founders begin to build the sacred enclave of the Aerie within the Ring, the great wall of New North. Gallants repel attacks and banish those not chosen by the Gods to the barren ice-world beyond the Ring: the Boundary lands.
5-7 A.H. WITH GUIDANCE from the Gods, the Founders begin to write sacred texts, The Praebulum and The Lex, setting forth the rules by which the people of New North must live.
8 A.H. THE AERIE Gate is finished. On the last day of construction, Founder Edmund discovers the first Relic: an altar to the false god Apple. With guidance from the Gods, Edmund names himself First Archon and establishes the Testing and the Chronicles. Founder Mikhail, as witness, becomes First Lexor. Founder Sven, as Leading Gallant, becomes First Basilikon. The Triad is now complete. The Founders finish The Praebulum and The Lex, thanks to the Gods.
27 A.H. THE BOUNDARY lands launch a final raid against the Aerie. The New North’s Gallants soundly defeat them. As a reminder of New North’s righteous supremacy, the Gods mandate taking the Boundary lands’ people as servants for the Aerie.
68 A.H. CONSTRUCTION OF the Basilikon is completed. The first Feast Days are established.
98 A.H. THE TRIAD, with guidance from the Gods, permits Madeline to become the first Maiden to Test and Chronicle.
202 A.H. CONSTRUCTION OF the final Aerie tower is completed. The Golden Age begins.
218 A.H. THE TRIAD selects Jon, a direct descendant of Edmund, to the ranks of Archons upon his exemplary Testing and Chronicle.
233 A.H. THE TRIAD determines that Archon Jon shall be selected as Chief Archon for a Lex-sanctified ten years.
241 A.H. EAMON, SON of Chief Archon Jon, and twin of Maiden Eva, makes the Commitment to Test.
241 A.H. EAMON DIES while climbing the Ring, training for the Testing, in prohibition of The Lex.
241 A.H. EVA, DAUGHTER of Chief Archon Jon, Commits to Test in her twin brother Eamon’s stead.
Prologue
Eamon throws his axe into the ice above his head. He hits a perfect depression in the wall. Pulling up hard, he kicks the bear-claw toes of his climbing boots into the wall. He repeats the practiced motion, over and over. Like some kind of arctic cat, he scales the frozen Ring.
Each time he moves, he makes sure to insert an ice screw level with his waist and secure his rope to it. Just a precaution should he fall. Not that he ever has.
Bit by painstaking bit, the top of the Ring nears. Although he knows he shouldn’t, that it goes against the primary rule of ice climbing, Eamon can’t resist: he looks down at the hundreds of feet of sheer ice below.
Even in the dim moonlight, the vista makes him dizzy. The Ring, a near-perfect, mountainous circle of ice, stands at the center of this last remaining land above the seas, his home: New North. It makes the risk of climbing—punishable by exile into the Boundary lands—worthwhile. That, and the edge it will give him for the Testing.
He looks back up. Despite the cramps in his hands and calves, he smiles a little. Only a few feet left to the summit. Just one more swing of his axe, and he’ll be standing on the peak.
He drives his axe hard into a hollow. But he is too hasty. For the first time ever, he misreads the ice. The axe doesn’t hold. It slips out of the giant, slick wall.
Sliding backward, he plummets twelve feet. He bounces off sharp outcroppings that lacerate his skin. His descent is stopped only by a screw, his rope, and his harness. Dangling upside down in the frigid midnight air, hundreds of feet from the ground, he starts to pull himself up.
As he manages to right himself, he sees that his rope is frayed.
How, Eamon can’t imagine. He had made the rope himself with sealskin. He was certain of its strength. But the reason doesn’t matter. All that matters is how he’ll climb the remaining twenty feet with an injured body and a worthless rope.
He begins to unhook himself from his harness, and the slight pressure makes the rope unravel farther. Just before it snaps and yanks him down with it, he swings his axe into the ice. Shaking and bleeding, he clings to the face of the ice wall with only his axe and his bear-claw boots. He has no choice but to climb back up, this time creeping inch by inch.
Stupid. He should never have risked the Ring, no matter the possible advantage. He needs to win the Archon spot, to make sure he can act on what he’s learned, but he didn’t need to try the Ring. Pride and thirst for glory brought him to this place. He’d assumed the Testing would be the easy part, given his training and sure footing. The difficult part was to make sure that his Testing Chronicle secured him not only the Archon Laurels, but also the Chief Archon spot when his father’s term ends. But he forgot the rule drilled into him from infancy: don’t presume to know the ice and snow. Now he stands to die. That price is not worth what it will do to Eva; he won’t be around any longer to protect her. The only consolation is that, even if he lives, sharing the truth with New North might get him killed anyway.
He sees the summit. As he plans how he’ll hoist his damaged body over the lip, a silhouette of a figure appears against the backdrop of the moon. Instinct tells him to scale back down. The Ring-Guards and certain exile await him at the top. But he knows his only chance of survival is surrender.
“Over here,” he calls out.
The figure moves toward him, leans toward the edge, and stretches out a hand.
Eamon leaves his axe in the ice so he can reach. “Thank the Gods, you’re here.”
A hand clasps Eamon’s, and the figure’s face becomes clear.
“What are you doing out here?” Eamon asks, too confused to be frightened.
“I’m so sorry, Eamon. You were never meant to make it this far.”
The figure lets go. And Eamon falls from the Ring into the darkness.
I: Martius 31 Year 242, A.H.
I stand on the turret, watching the night fall. The Ring looms large in the darkening horizon, and I can’t avoid looking at it any longer. Not if I want to say a proper goodbye to my dead brother before I set off for the Testing. I gaze at its steep, jagged ice-cliffs, but it’s not enough. I need to get a closer look—as eye-level as possible—and stare straight at the place that killed my brother.
Eamon, my twin. I can barely even think his name. I’m not ready yet, but I have no choice.
Lifting up my heavy fur cloak and my long Feast-day skirts, I step up onto the ledge of the turret. I’ve been up here hundreds of times before with Eamon—the turret was our special place—but it takes me a tick to get my footing. My delicate ceremonial shoes don’t have the same grip as my kamiks.
I steady myself, and try to relax. My breath forms an icy cloud in the encroaching polar darkness, and I start to shiver. Not just from the cold. Fear of getting caught out here has got me shaking. The punishment for disobeying The Lex by being here after the None Bell—especially tonight, on the Feast of the Testing—is severe.